Taken Too Young
by rowanrawr
Summary: Today our son had been cruelly murdered, our family had been torn apart and nothing anyone could do could make that better. Our world had changed: and not for the better. Evra's take on his son's death.


Well, would you look at this: I'm writing something other then Arra/Larten fics? How insane of me. But yes, I have decided to step out of my soft, squidgy comfort zone and write something for my favourite snake-guy, Evra Von. I've always wanted to try something with Evra, so I finally have and this is the result (please excuse any terribleness or anything of that sort).

This is in Evra's POV and takes place at the time of Shancus's death.

**Disclaimer: **I'm not Darren Shan. Promise.

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I watched in a kind of curious horror as Steve Leonard planted his hands on either side of my son's head. In the back of my mind I knew what was going to happen but I couldn't understand: didn't want to understand. Surely this man wouldn't actually kill a defenceless, innocent child. But what happened next proved me completely wrong.

Leonard glanced up at Darren from across the pit of stakes, a daring look in his cold eyes, and grinned. I heard Darren gasp but by then it was too late for any of us to do anything: Leonard twisted Shancus's head sharply to the left, and then to the right and then let his hands drop to his sides. And Shancus fell to the ground, his small body hitting the wooden floor with a sickening dull thunk.

Time seemed to stand still as we all gaped in shock at the scene before us – even Leonard looked surprised – before it finally sunk in and I lost it.

"_Bastard!_" I screamed and launched myself toward the pit of stakes (forgetting that there were stakes in it) intent on wrapping my hands around Leonard's neck and killing him. Something rammed into my side before I could impale myself and threw me sideways: I landed hard on the ground and Harkat – who had knocked into me – held me down. I battered his face with my fists, pure fury clouding my mind and I found I was unable to stop myself, even though I knew Harkat was a friend. But he held me down, not even flinching from my blows.

During my attack on the Little Person I heard gun shots and shouts, and I hoped to God that no one had managed to get to Leonard: he was mine. Mine to punish, mine to hurt, mine to kill.

I was still pummelling Harkat when I felt his weight shift and he sat up, his large green eyes watching me sadly. I didn't wait around: I sprang up and ran toward the pit, and this time no one stopped me. Vancha had already picked his way through the stakes and I quickly jumped in and followed him. I slipped and fell, nearly impaling myself several times, gaining cuts all the way, and screaming for my son.

"_Shancus! Shancus!_" My voice was strained: it sounded strange to my ears, "Shancus, _please,_ get up!" I fell again, my arm slicing painfully against one of the stakes but I continued on, desperate to reach my boy, "Please, please, please . . . ._ Shancus_!"

I saw Vancha run into the side tunnel that seemed to lead off the stage and into the back of the building, but he quickly returned, a look of pure frustration on his face. And then he took in the body of my son and his face split into sadness.

The stage suddenly appeared in front of me and I clambered up, still crying out for Shancus to get up. I staggered over to him and, seeing that he wasn't going to get up (his neck was twisted at a horrible angle), I collapsed to my knees and howled, pounding the wood of the stage with my fists. Voices reached me but I didn't take them in: I was focused on the only thing that mattered, my lifeless son. I choked back a cry and shakily reached out a hand and passed it through Shancus's soft hair.

People were standing around me now, talking quietly, looking down at me with sad expressions. I took no notice of them and instead lifted Shancus's head off the floor and cradled it in my lap, my tears dripping down onto his motionless face. I groaned and doubled over him.

I stayed like that for a while before I felt a hand press against my shoulder. I sniffed and lifted my head slowly: it was Debbie, "We have to take him back to the Cirque, Evra."

I stared at her blankly before her words sank in: take Shancus's body back to the Cirque, back to my friends, back to my family. Oh God, Merla. I sighed and nodded, thinking only of the way my wife would react to seeing Shancus's lifeless body being carried back to her. I stood and moved to pick up my son, but Harkat brushed my hands away with a sad, jagged smile and lifted Shancus from the floor with hardly any effort. I nodded in thanks, unable to manage a smile, even a very sad one. Debbie placed her hand on my arm and led me away: apparently I had missed something and only me, Debbie and Harkat were returning to the Cirque.

We left the building without looking back and headed back to the Cirque, and I every step I took was one of pain and dread.

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Merla was the first person I saw and she was the first to reach us, "Evra, what happened? Where's Shancus?" Her voice sounded almost hysterical and it pained me even more so to hear her like that.

"Merla . . . . " I started but then Debbie moved to the side and revealed Harkat, who was carrying Shancus, and Merla screamed: it was the worst sound I'd ever heard and I started to sob again. Harkat laid Shancus on the ground and Merla fell to her knees, stroking our son's face, his hair, calling to him, trying to get him to wake up. The Cirque folk had crowded around us, and I could hear Urcha and Lilia crying in amongst the crowd: someone must have been holding them back and I was glad, I didn't want them to see their brother's deformed, dead body.

Debbie and Harkat moved away towards the crowd and I knelt down next to my wife and slipped my arms around her, holding her shaking form against me. I didn't even try to tell her that it would be okay, that everything would get better, because I knew deep in my heart that it wouldn't.

Today our son had been cruelly murdered, our family had been torn apart and nothing anyone could do could make that better. Our world had changed: and not for the better.

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How was that? Did you like it? Let me know!

- Rowan.


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